


Precedent

by htebazytook



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Canon typical mentions of violence, Dom/sub Undertones, First Time, Lawyer Boyfriends, M/M, PWP, Slash, Smut, casefic, fuck buddies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:01:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21567286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/htebazytook/pseuds/htebazytook
Summary: Sure, they engage in some ‘stress relief’ during a case, but that doesn’t mean they’re in a Relationship.  Right?
Relationships: Rafael Barba/Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 145





	Precedent

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: Don’t own, don’t profit.

*

Carisi has been summoned.

Summoned really is the right word for it, too. Barba doesn’t call meetings or invite people to his office - instead he summons them, like he’s the Earl of Midtown. The building is mostly empty as Carisi navigates its halls and elevator banks, and when he arrives on Barba’s floor his secretary is gone for the weekend. The blinds are open and the office door is ajar, but Carisi knocks anyway - he wasn’t raised in a barn, no matter what some people thought about Staten Island.

“Come in.”

Carisi pushes the door the rest of the way open. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes, detective.” Barba stops texting and looks at him. “You interviewed Kamila. Did you find her credible?”

Carisi grimaces. “Depends on what you mean by credible. She believes her own bullshit, that’s for sure.”

“Meaning she believes Chris has chosen her, his one true infidelitous love.”

“He’s a knight in shining armor, this guy. At least as far as Kamila’s concerned.”

Barba sighs. “So she’s lying for him. That’s fine; I can work with that.”

“So, anything else you wanted to talk about, or - ?”

“Yes, actually.” He’s got his prosecutorial voice on now, which a tiny bit thrilling when it’s directed at you in a deserted office. “Could you stand back by the door again, please?”

Carisi does it, and when he turns back around Barba is behind his desk. “Ohh, this is about what the wife said to the daughter, isn’t it? Correct me if I’m wrong, counselor, but that’s basically hearsay, am I right?”

Barba’s nose scrunches in amusement. When had he stopped being so annoyed with Carisi’s suggestions, anyway? “Basically. Now, Mrs Sachs says she could see straight into her husband’s office from her desk.”

“Yeah, ‘cause she was his secretary. Man, no wonder they had problems - you ever try to work with someone you’re involved with? I do _not_ recommend it.” 

“Duly noted. Mrs Sachs was returning early from her lunch break and noticed her husband’s office door ajar. She pushed it open and was greeted with the sight of the new CFO on her knees behind her husband’s desk, performing oral sex on him in plain view of Mrs Sachs.”

“The rest of us call it a blowjob, counselor.”

“Mrs Sachs subsequently tells her daughter and confides her intention to divorce her husband, she had suspected affairs for some time, blah blah blah. Now. The defense is going to argue that poor Mrs Sachs (who is too dead to give us her side of the story) had a history of mental instability and that her statements to her daughter were the result of jealous paranoia.”

“There’s no evidence of that.”

“No there isn’t. Which is why the defense is going to hinge this all on the impossibility of Mrs Sachs being physically able to see what was or was not transpiring behind her husband’s desk from the doorway. Hence . . . “ Barba gestures between them.

“Oh, right. I getcha.” Carisi’s gaze drops below Barba’s belt despite himself, but he is thankfully mostly obscured by the desk. “Well, I can’t see much from here.”

“Are you sure?” Barba turns his body sideways. “What about now?”

Carisi scrutinizes the vicinity of Barba’s crotch - you know, for the sake of justice.

“I dunno, it could really go either way. How tall is Mr Sachs?”

“He’s only an inch taller than me, and I measured the desks too. Although, hold on . . . ” Barba starts readjusting the stacks of books Carisi now notices are covering the desktop. Abruptly he drops until only a little tuft of his hair is visible.

“Nothin’, sorry. Not really.”

Barba stands again, hands on his hips and panting a little with exertion or frustration or both. 

“You know, Kamila’s actually pretty tall. We were almost eye to eye when I brought her down to the station. Remember, she was a teen model back in the day.”

Barba frowns. “Are you sure? I think she just wears a lot of heels. She’s always dressed to the nines.”

“Yeah, and they’re usually Louboutin but never more than like two inches. ‘Cause she is, like I said, already pretty tall without ‘em.”

Barba raises an eyebrow. “You got a shoe fetish I should know about, Carisi?”

“Nah; just sisters.”

Barba rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Come over here for a minute.”

Carisi obliges and joins Barba behind his desk. 

Barba looks up at him, looks back toward the door. Calculating. “Get on your knees.”

Carisi’s breath catches a little and he hopes Barba doesn’t notice. You can’t just go around _saying_ things like that . . . But Barba seems lost in thought so Carisi goes to his knees behind the desk, studiously avoiding staring at Barba’s crotch despite the fact that it’s directly in front of him. 

“Now, can you see the door? Can you see out of it?”

Carisi (who had _not_ been surreptitiously searching for the outline of Barba’s dick through his pants) turns his head. “Yeah, definitely. It’s clear as day.”

“Ha! I knew it. There’s no way Dinah looked in here and misconstrued Kamila with her husband in this position.” He’s grinning when he looks down at Carisi and Carisi can see the exact moment when Barba becomes self aware: his eyes widen and his whole body tenses. “Oh. This is extremely inappropriate.”

“No,” Carisi says, voice higher than intended. “No worries.”

Barba’s neck is starting to flush and he seems unable to move. When Carisi clambers back to his feet he’s kind of forced to bump against Barba a couple times, and it’s only then that Barba backs up. “Sorry.”

Carisi waves it off, determined to be cool about this. “No, I don’t mind. I mean, it’s fine.” Barba frowns and opens his mouth at that - “I mean, forget about it. Let’s just forget about it, okay?”

“Yeah, I think we probably should.” But Barba looks hopelessly unguarded right now. There’s no way he’s conscious of the way he stares at Carisi’s mouth and licks his lips.

“Well,” Carisi says. “Well, then. Guess I’ll see ya at arraignment.”

“Yes.” Barba goes to rebutton an already buttoned up blazer, then clasps his hands together awkwardly. “Arraignment.”

So Carisi flees.

*

The trial is going great until Kamila takes the stand. She sticks by her (really, Chris’s) story and doesn’t budge an inch during cross. Carisi can’t help feeling bad for her though - the poor woman really believes Chris cares about her. The judge calls a recess and Barba crumples up his notes before storming out of the courtroom.

Carisi, Liv, and Fin find Barba in his office instead of getting lunch and they all try to talk strategy, but emotions are running high and things get a little tense. Light streams in through the windows behind Barba’s desk - it’s a clear blue day outside but the room is stagnant with discord. Barba being more agitated than the rest of them combined. Liv keeps saying it isn’t Barba’s fault and it is clearly doing nothing to assuage him. Barba has been pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace for a good ten minutes and eventually the detectives make a mutual unspoken decision to leave him to it. Carisi tells Fin he’ll catch up with them, then closes the office door and approaches Barba.

Barba sighs. “Yes, what do you want, Carisi?”

“Listen, counselor, I’ve been thinking. This case has got some similarities to that case with the guy who beat his wife to death with a golf club in the 90’s. The mistress was in on it, too, I think. Yeah - it was Joan Dawley and her awful husband Dennis. Remember it?”

“Vaguely.” Barba frowns. “You studied that case in law school? It never struck me as particularly instructional.”

“Nah, we didn’t. I probably just got sucked into a Dateline one night or something. Anyway, I’ve definitely never got the feeling that Kamila was directly involved in the wife’s murder other than alibying Chris.”

“And lying her ass off.”

“Yeah, and that. Now, in the Dawley case the husband was financially motivated. I know Chris was doing okay for himself - I mean he had his own company for Chrissakes - but you know how scummy guys like this are, they always think they’re due a payoff for their bad behavior.”

“That may be, but we don’t have any evidence to support that. Chris didn’t take out any suspiciously timed life insurance policies, nobody recently rewrote their will. Nothing like that.”

“You’re right - _he_ didn’t. But maybe his faithful side piece Kamila did.”

Barba holds a finger up. “We have the company’s financials . . . “

“And she _is_ the CFO.”

Barba lights up and heads to his desk, sits down and starts pulling out folders, unbuttoning his jacket with a careless grace that Carisi finds it hard to look away from. Carisi snaps out of it and follows him, hovering behind Barba’s chair and peering over his shoulder. Kamila had been shuffling money around in unusual ways in the days leading up to the murder, and the best part was that the defense had introduced the records as evidence. 

“It’s always a little extra fun when they screw themselves, isn’t it, counselor?”

Barba turns his head, grinning and about to say something but he seems suddenly frozen by their proximity. Carisi can practically feel the quickening of his breath. Barba’s pupils are huge, and his tongue darts out over his bottom lip.

Ah, fuck it. Carisi closes the distance to kiss him. Barba tenses and exhales sharply through his nose but then he’s kissing back. Then he’s standing, pulling Carisi close with needy hands in his hair and a soft hot lovely mouth all over him. Kisses smeared along Carisi’s jaw and the dark leathery smell of his cologne makes him dizzy. Barba keeps pushing forward until Carisi is forced to sit on the edge of the desk. 

Carisi is suddenly keenly aware of open blinds along the glass wall separating them from the waiting room.

Barba follows his gaze. “Everyone’s at lunch. It should be fine.”

“That’s what Mr Sachs thought.”

Barba snorts. His hands pause at Carisi’s belt. “Is that a yes?”

A hot shiver runs up Carisi’s spine and his mouth goes dry. He nods. “Yes. For the record.”

Barba drops to his knees, unbuckles, unzips, and pulls Carisi’s cock out. He wastes no time in touching the head with his tongue, just tasting. He takes it all for a dazzling second to make things wetter before pulling off to pump Carisi with his hand. The sight of him curiously licking at Carisi’s cock like it’s perfectly commonplace is particularly arresting. Carisi is so hard he thinks he might pass out, but he also can’t tear his eyes away. Barba angles Carisi’s cock down to let it slide more easily into his mouth, nudging into his throat briefly and then back out again. Barba makes a circle with his fingers and takes the rest of the shaft in, sucking softly on the upstroke until Carisi is squirming. Carisi could swear he hears/feels Barba laugh before he picks up the pace, tightening his grip and sucking harder. It all sounds amazingly obscene and Carisi is so fucking obsessed with the idea of Barba doing this to him, the fucking _sight_ of him with his designer clothes and his filthy velvet mouth and wonderful sure hands and just, _fuck_ . . . 

Carisi makes a strangled sound he hopes can convey how close he is - he can’t fucking breathe, can’t speak because he’s never been this turned on in his life, probably. Barba glances bluely up at him like he _knows_ how devastating he looks with his cheeks all hollowed and that’s all it takes for Carisi to come right down his throat.

Once Carisi can think again he looks down at Barba. Barba wipes his mouth off with the back of his formerly pristine sleeve as he stands up and stretches his back out. When he sits in the swivel chair behind his desk his erection is both conspicuous and within reach so Carisi cups it with his palm. He thumbs over Barba’s bruised bottom lip and feels Barba’s stuttering exhale. “I’m gonna suck you off too. Any objections?”

Barba shakes his head, muttering something Spanish as Carisi slips off the desk and between Barba’s legs on the floor. Carisi noses up the line of Barba’s cock, relishing the heat and smell of him before pulling it out through his fly. 

Carisi’s heart is still pounding and he’s still catching his breath from his orgasm so he plants vague sucking kisses up the shaft. Barba’s hands move to the back of Carisi’s head, crunching through the gel until it’s softer and he can caress his scalp. He takes Barba’s cock in deep, curious how far he can get it since he’s so out of practice. When it hits the back of Carisi’s throat Barba seems to lose all control - he groans and his hips snap reflexively.

“Shit, sorry.”

“You can fuck my mouth, Rafael.” Carisi feels absolutely wanton and Barba’s sharply clenching fingers aren’t helping. Carisi kisses the head of his cock. “Lemme rephrase that: I _want_ you to fuck my mouth.”

Carisi loves how Barba doesn’t hesitate - he holds Carisi’s head still and thrusts into him now. It keeps making the chair move, so Barba stands up to get better traction and dislodges them. He tips Carisi’s chin up and slides his thumb into Carisi’s mouth along with his cock and Carisi just closes his eyes and moans around it. He feels trapped by him, unable to think and obsessed with it - the feeling of Barba filling his mouth and the grip he has on Carisi’s hair. When Barba comes he’s so deep that it just shoots into Carisi’s throat and forces him into swallowing and Carisi is stupidly turned on by the fact that Barba hadn’t warned him.

Carisi sits back on the floor and leans against the bookshelf, wincing at the way his knees crack. He takes off his tie because he doesn’t feel like scouring Barba’s office for tissues and dabs at his face and wipes off his dick too for good measure before standing up and zipping up. His shirt is sticking uncomfortably to his back. 

Barba has fallen back into the chair, loose limbed and debauched. He’s put himself back in his pants and his heavy-lidded gaze is fixed on Carisi. “Carisi. Sonny. We need to talk about this.”

“Ugh, do we, though?” Carisi perches on the edge of the desk - his legs are way too wobbly for standing. “It doesn’t have to be complicated.”

“We’ve both been under a lot of stress lately, and that tension had to be released somehow. But it doesn’t have to _mean_ anything.”

Carisi shrugs. “Okay.”

Barba keeps babbling: “I’m too busy for romantic strolls on the beach. I don’t have time to take you out to fascinating little restaurants where they know you. You should know that about me - I’m not looking for a relationship.”

“Jeez, okay. You’re actin’ like I just proposed.” It’s kinda fun to see Barba squirming like this. 

“ _However_ ,” Barba continues, “I’m not opposed to a sexual relationship.”

“Yeah, no. Fuck buddies, I’m right there with ya.”

“You sure about that?” Barba just looks suspicious now. “I guess I assumed you’d be more, I dunno, sentimental about this.”

Carisi laughs. “What, do you want me to sign a affidavit? Come on.” 

“Okay, okay. This isn’t the Church of Scientology.”

*

Carisi gets why Barba would assume he wants a relationship with a capital R. Carisi _is_ sentimental, and he does like relationships. He’s been with plenty of great girls and even dated a guy consistently one time but when Carisi does get in a relationship, he’s all in. Now, that’s a lot of energy to dedicate to something when he’s constantly being sapped by the caseload at SVU, not to mention the emotional toll the stuff he sees there takes. It’s a lot, and it’s stressful, and if Barba is right there being suave and sexy and offering himself up with no strings attached then who is Carisi to deny it? He hasn’t got laid in forever despite his mother’s relentless matchmaking attempts.

Anyway there’s just too much to lose when you go all in. 

The defense has finally rested after parading a rogue’s gallery in front of the jury, and I mean, you had to give them credit for their perseverance. Carisi honestly can’t tell which way the jury is leaning, and he’s glad to let them deliberate and stop worrying about it for the time being. The case is kind of a clusterfuck, and there’s no way they’re coming back with a verdict quick.

Carisi finds himself being summoned again later that night. It’s different than the other times - there isn’t even any pretext in Barba’s text:

**How’s your caseload right now?**

Carisi had texted back:

**Slow why?**

**Come to my office.**

And then:

**Everyone’s gone for the weekend.**

They’ve seen each other in court and during recesses, but there hasn’t been time for anything extra curricular. The sexual tension has only been building, and Carisi hates it as much as he relishes it. He splashes his face in the bathroom at the precinct before he heads out, and pauses by the condom machine. Do people actually use these things? He puts a quarter in anyway and slips the little packet it dispenses into his wallet.

It’s after 10 and Barba’s building is 90% dark. The security guard only glances up from his crossword for a minute to wave Carisi through. He doesn’t meet anybody in the elevators. The floor that houses the ADA offices is all fluorescent hallways and blacked out offices. Carisi can see softer lamplight glowing through the blinds of Barba’s office, though, and it looks both warm and eerie.

The door is flung wide open this time, so Carisi doesn’t knock.

The creamy green walls of the office are usually calming but tonight they are fraught with shadows - there’s just the one lamp on in the corner. Barba is standing by a window and texting, hunched over a little in such a way that stretches his shoulders appealingly against his shirt.

Carisi clears his throat. “Hey.”

Barba locks his phone and sets it on the windowsill. “Hey.” His eyes roam down Carisi’s body without a hint of shame. Barba’s eyes are murky and changeable, dark green depths and bright blue flashes.

Heat starts pooling in Carisi’s groin in anticipation. “Hey, uh. Good summation. I think you really got through to the jury.”

“I hope so,” Barba says. “And thank you.”

Carisi shuffles his feet. “So. You wanted to see me?”

Barba’s smirk is barely there but it still makes Carisi’s heart skip a beat. He crosses to the windows to shut the blinds, shut the door and lock it. He pulls Carisi in by his belt, palming his cock through his pants with one hand while the other unbuckles. 

“Jesus, Rafael.”

“Oh, leave Him out of it,” Barba says, caging Carisi against the door and crushing the blinds in the process. His mouth latches onto Carisi’s neck while he unwinds Carisi's tie and skims his fingers along his collarbone. Carisi just succumbs to the bliss of it all - he loves the largeness of Barba’s hands, their assuredness and neediness. Carisi grinds his hips up and both of them groan.

“Hold that thought,” Barba mutters. He walks over to his desk, opens a drawer and deposits lube and condoms on the blotter pad.

Carisi snickers. “Is this just for me or is it always here in case there’s a hot defense attorney you wanna seduce?”

Barba makes a face. “Maybe a pro bono one. But I’ll leave that up to your imagination. Come here.”

The office feels suddenly huge, but luckily Barba meets Carisi halfway and pushes him up against a mirror-black window. Barba attacks Carisi’s tie while Carisi unbuttons first his own shirt and then Barba’s. Barba has to back off to shrug out of his suspenders and shirt and undershirt. He spins Carisi around against the window - cool against his cheek - and kisses up the nape of Carisi’s neck while pulling his shirt off, sucks behind his jaw and bites into the meat of his shoulder. Carisi can feel the rigid line of his cock digging into his ass.

“I really want to fuck you, Sonny. Any objections?”

Carisi groans, flooded with fantasies. “Do it.”

Pants and underwear are pushed down around their ankles and Barba takes his sweet time opening Carisi up. He seems unable to stop grinding his cock into Carisi’s ass and breathing praise into his ear. Carisi feels feverish with the onslaught of sensation and sighs into the fogging window pane, wonders if anyone can see them from the building across the street. Barba’s fingers are deliberate, invading him slowly and Carisi always forgets how breathtaking it feels to be filled like this.

“Okay, enough of that,” Carisi says. He shakes Barba off and heads back to the desk to grab a condom which he tears open with his teeth. Barba follows, flushed and shadowy with his cock straining against his stomach. Carisi rolls the condom on Barba with as much sexiness as he can muster but it does seem to work because then Barba spins him around and bends him over the desk. Carisi resists the impulse to sweep everything off it with his arm like in the movies and just grabs Barba’s discarded blazer to put under his head. He hears Barba slicking himself up, feels him tease the head of his cock across Carisi’s entrance before sinking carefully inside.

Carisi forces himself to relax through the first slow series of thrusts. Barba seems to sense when he’s acclimated, though, because he angles Carisi’s hips up and drives in again and hits something blindingly good. Carisi can’t help shouting and Barba goes still.

“We have to be quiet,” Barba murmurs. “There are still some people in the office.”

“Ugh, fuck you,” Carisi says, but bites his lip as Barba fucks back into him, absolutely fucking the breath out of him. The hot stretch of Barba’s cock is just as good as the sharp pleasure of it hitting his prostate. One of Barba’s hands latches onto Carisi’s hip while the other kneads his ass and Carisi feels wanted and wanton.

“God, you’re good at that,” Carisi groans. “Real fuckin’ good . . . ”

Barba claps a hand over Carisi’s mouth. “I thought I told you to be quiet.”

Carisi licks along Barba’s fingers and turns his head to suck one into his mouth. Barba drives into him harder now and Carisi has to bite into Barba’s dumb expensive blazer to muffle the noises being drawn out of him. Carisi thinks he might come from this, just hovering deliciously on the edge. Barba beats him to it though, throbbing inside him and swearing under his breath.

Before Carisi even knows what's happening Barba has pulled out and hauled Carisi upright and whirled him around. Cups his jaw and kisses him deeply. And maybe it’s just the blood rushing from Carisi’s head but something seems to spark between them. Barba’s still panting with exertion and it makes the kiss breathy and thrillingly uncoordinated. 

“Sofa,” Barba gasps, hurrying to tie off the condom and drop it in a wastebasket before following.

Barba joins Carisi on the sofa and draws him into another kiss. One hand holding him in place by the back of the neck while the other drops down to start jerking his cock. Going fast and hard and Carisi nods against Barba’s forehead. Carisi can’t stop making the kind of whining sounds he would normally find embarrassing, oversensitized everywhere, and Barba swallows them eagerly up. Carisi keeps kissing him after he comes, obsessed with the softness of his mouth and the scrape of stubble, feeling dazed and amazing and sated. It tapers off eventually, and Barba gets up to hand Carisi some tissues. They both clean up and dress in silence. 

*

When Carisi walks into the precinct a couple days later he doesn’t expect to see Barba. But he’s there - motionless and high class in a sea of hassled cops running to and fro. The Sachs case is over, and SVU hasn’t caught anything new that Barba really needs to be apprised of just yet. But there he is standing in front of the bulletin board, apparently studying their preliminary investigation into a push-in rapist.

“Hey, counselor,” Carisi calls from across the office. Barba turns away from the board to face him, perfectly composed. “Congratulations. I knew the jury’d see through that douchebag’s lies.“

“It’s always nice when the jury sees reason. I wasn’t sure for awhile there.”

“Yeah.” Carisi takes a deep breath. “You wanna get drinks later?”

Barba squints. “Would we be ‘getting drinks’ or ‘having drinks’ ?”

“Whichever one’s a date.”

“I thought we weren’t doing that.” But a smile plays across Barba’s lips as he says it. He looks far from bothered.

“I mean no one’s twistin’ your arm here, you can say no.”

Barba makes a show of weighing his options. “No to drinks. But, I know a hole in the wall Thai place that’s pretty good.”

“You pleading me down, counselor?”

“More like up, I thought. Why, do you have a counter offer for me?”

Carisi grins. “Nah. I’ll swing by your office at eight.”

“Fine. Wait - make it quarter after,” Barba says. “Carmen goes home at eight.”

“Gotcha,” Carisi says, a little more gruffly than he’d meant to. 

Barba notices, eyes raking conspicuously over him. Carisi can feel himself blushing. He’s painfully aware of the whirl of other people around them in the squad room. 

Carisi has to laugh. “You’re an asshole.”

Barba shrugs. “You’re not the first to say it,” he admits, and touches the back of Carisi’s hand very briefly before slipping past him and out into the hallway.

*


End file.
